


Freaky Friday

by Kirito_Potter



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Bodyswap, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, One Shot, POV Outsider, Power Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 14:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18701440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirito_Potter/pseuds/Kirito_Potter
Summary: I've been eating for nearly five minutes when the doors are thrown open, and Baz stumbles into the room. I never thought I'd put “Baz” and “stumbles” in the same sentence, but he's a right mess, tie hanging loosely and hair half-gelled, like someone kicked him out of his room before he could finish getting ready. I've never seen Baz not put together. I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone (with Rod Serling, not Jordan Peele).





	Freaky Friday

**PENNY**

 

I'm waiting for Simon to come to breakfast. That's honestly surprising-- while it takes him forever to wake up in the morning, he's somehow also the first to breakfast most days. (I suspect he's using some kind of speed spell, or maybe teleportation.)

I've been eating for nearly five minutes when the doors are thrown open, and Baz stumbles into the room. I never thought I'd put “Baz” and “stumbles” in the same sentence, but he's a right mess, tie hanging loosely and hair half-gelled, like someone kicked him out of his room before he could finish getting ready. I've never seen Baz not put together. I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone (with Rod Serling, not Jordan Peele).

As if this wasn't a strange enough morning, he comes barreling towards my table, wide-eyed. I wave awkwardly, and he skids to a stop in front of Simon's usual seat.

 

“Hullo, miss. How are you this morning?” He sounds awkward and strange, like he's trying to sound posh instead of how the poshness usually rolls off him naturally.

 

“Hullo?” I offer. “Did you get caught in a hurricane or something?”

 

He swallows hard. “Listen, um, Penny--”

 

I cut him off, raising a hand. “Since when do you call me Penny?”

 

He winces. “Ah, that's-- um--” He leans down to whisper, but it's not very quiet. “I'm not actually Baz.”

 

I process this for a moment. I nearly scream. “Si--”

 

He claps a hand over my mouth. “Shh, keep it down!”

 

I gape, pushing his hand away. “What did you _do_?”

 

He glances around nervously. “Come on, let's talk somewhere else.”

 

He drags me out of the dining hall, eyeing a scone sadly, and we check that no one is in the hallway.

 

“Simon!” I say again. “What are you doing? Is this some kind of transfiguration?”

 

He flinches. “It's-- it's not a one-way thing. More of a… swap?”

 

“A swap?” I repeat. “As in--”

 

“As in he's running around in my body right now.” A look of guilt flashes over his face. “Well, he's not running around, exactly.”

 

“What did you do?” I ask, genuinely concerned.

 

He shrugs weakly. “He was freaking out and screaming at me, and I couldn't think, and I just-- I cast the first spell I could think of to calm him down.”

 

“Which was?”

 

He squirms, and it looks especially awkward in Baz's body. (Everything he does looks awkward in Baz's body.) “Uh… rock-a-bye, baby?”

 

I groan. “You can't just put people to sleep, Simon!”

 

“I panicked!”

 

Sighing, I guess, “So then you came to see if I could fix it.”

 

“Kinda, yeah.”

 

I grit my teeth. “What spell did you use to swap your bodies?”

 

“Well, I didn't use a spell at all!” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, which only makes it messier. “I went and pulled a Simon. I just shouted, ‘You have no idea how hard it is to be me!’ and it turned into magic.”

 

“Then just pull a Simon again,” I suggest. “Cast a spell with sheer willpower.”

 

He shakes his head. “I think we swapped magic, too. On one hand, I have so much more control now. It's like I can actually predict my magic. On the other, there's sort of a side effect.” He gestures to Baz's face. “And without my wonky magic, I can't undo the wonky magic I did before.” He sighs in defeat. “It's a Catcher in the Rye.”

 

I raise an eyebrow. “Do you mean a Catch-22?”

 

“No, I think I said it right the first time.”

 

“The point,” I say, rolling my eyes, “is you can't fix this by yourself. You need Baz. Whether your magic fixes it or he knows a spell that can help, you can't leave him sleeping in your dorm if you want your body back.”

 

He winces. “Baz isn't going to be happy when he wakes up.”

 

“He'll be even less happy if he's stuck in your body for the rest of his life,” I argue. “Come on. I'm helping, too.”

 

We make our way down to Mummers House, and he stares at me pointedly as I walk through the front doors.

 

“I'm going to find out how you do that,” he grumbles.

 

I smile innocently, starting up the stairs. “Do what?”

 

When I reach their dorm room at the top, I'm exhausted. “The Mage really should consider elevators.” I push open the door.

 

Simon-- or rather, Baz-- is lying on the floor, snoring loudly. I suspect that's a Simon thing, not a Baz thing, but I can't be sure.

 

I raise my hand, ring glowing. “ **Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey.** ”

 

He wakes with a snort, shaking his head as he sits up. He looks groggy and confused, squinting up at me in uncertainty.

 

“Bunce?”

 

I'm not used to hearing Simon call me that. Neither is he, apparently, because he claps a hand over his throat. His eyes widen, and his head whips to look at Simon.

 

“Did you put me to sleep?” He snarls, but it doesn't pack as much punch coming from someone who's got drool on their chin.

 

Simon clears his throat. “Uh, I'm here to-- to discuss now. A temporary truce, yeah?”

 

Baz would look ready to murder him if he didn't still have bed head. Fluffy, curly bed head. “Why should I make a truce with you when this is entirely your fault?”

 

Simon shrugs. “Just until we're back to normal?”

 

Baz groans, pushing himself to his feet. He strides over to Simon, and I'm stricken by how graceful he looks. He glances up to meet Simon's eyes (they're his own eyes, actually, he's just meeting Simon's _gaze_ ) and sneers. “Oh, this is awful. I hate being shorter than you.”

 

Simon huffs. “Welcome to my world.”

 

Baz crosses Simon's arms. “Right, well, truce. Now turn us back.”

 

Simon sighs. “That's why I came here. I think you need to do it.”

 

Simon's blue eyes flash dangerously. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? It's your bloody fault, you numpty! You do it!”

 

“I'll try if you can't,” Simon offers. “But we've switched magic, so I need you to try, since I was the one who switched us.”

 

Baz nods slowly. “Alright. What spell should I use?”

 

“Don't use a spell,” Simon corrects. “Just say what you want to happen.”

 

“That's not how it works,” Baz protests.

 

“Well, it's how it works for me,” Simon argues, black brows pulling down. “Just put magic behind it.”

 

“That doesn't make any sense!” Baz's voice is rising in pitch.

 

“I didn't say it had to make sense!” Simon snaps back, expression vicious. “I just said that's what works for me!”

 

“You're a dumpster fire of a magician!” Baz screeches, standing on his tiptoes.

 

“Well, you're shite at working with others!” Simon snarls.

 

“I'm fine at it when I'm not working with an utter moron!” Baz counters.

 

“Hey!” I shout. They both turn to look. “If you keep bickering like this, you'll never get anything done!”

 

Their expressions soften, and Simon takes a step back. The tension in the room lessens significantly, and I take the moment to sit on Simon's bed, crossing my legs under myself.

 

“Now,” I sigh. “Baz, don't you think it's worth a shot?”

 

He pouts. “Fine. I'll try it. Don't be surprised when it doesn't work.” He places a hand on his hip in a very Baz-like way and a very not Simon-like way. “Change us back.”

 

Nothing happens.

 

“You have to mean it,” Simon explains. “Push magic into it.”

 

Baz takes a deep breath. “ **Change us back!** ”

 

Simon's face (the one Baz has control over) scrunches up, and I think it's working. I wait, watching him excitedly. He tips his head back, squeezing his eyes shut…

 

And sneezes loudly.

 

Baz groans, sniffling. “Oh, that was awful. Your magic is suffocating. It's like trying to breathe in the middle of a grease fire.”

 

Simon sighs. “Try something else.”

 

Baz purses his lips for a moment. “ **Give me my body!** ”

 

Simon slides across the ground in an instant, flying into Baz's arms and nearly knocking him over.

 

Baz squeaks, wobbling and pushing Simon off him. “Not what I meant!”

 

When they've regained their balance, Baz shakes his head, blondeish brownish curls flying about his face. “This is ridiculous.”

 

“But it's sort of working!” Simon says, grinning. “I mean, not the way you wanted, but it's working!”

 

Baz tries to pinch the bridge of his nose, then looks surprised when it's lower than expected. “What if this doesn't work?”

 

“It will!” Simon insists.

 

Baz raises one of Simon's eyebrows, and now it's really surreal. “ **Switch us!** ”

 

Nothing. Baz doubles over into a fit of violent coughing.

 

“I can't--” he stops to hack up a lung-- “keep this up. I'll die before I cast a proper spell.” The room smells like smoke, and his expression is slowly growing more and more troubled. “How do you do this every fucking day, Snow?” My skin tingles from the heat in the air.

 

I reach out and grab his hand without thinking. He glares at me.

 

“What are you--”

 

“You'll go off,” I say before he can yell at me and make it worse.

 

His eyes widen in understanding, but the magic only grows, tinging everything red. He's panicking.

 

Simon places his hands on Baz's shoulders, and I let go so Baz can focus. “You need to breathe,” Simon says, voice steady. “Think about running water, or ice, or a cool drink.”

 

Baz stares at him, looking vulnerable for once. His breaths are short puffs of air, and his eyelashes flutter frantically.

 

“Baz,” Simon murmurs. “Relax.”

 

His shoulders shake, and he squeezes his eyes shut. Slowly, the air clears, and the pinch of his eyebrows lessens. He takes a deep, shuddering breath.

 

“Are you okay?” Simon asks, with a soft expression I've never seen on Baz's features.

 

Baz swallows, opening his eyes again. “I think so.”

 

I've never seen Baz so open with his emotions before. He must have been really scared. I would be, if I suddenly couldn't control my magic.

 

A few seconds pass, and Simon is still holding Baz's shoulders. All at once, Baz's expression melts into disgust, and he shakes Simon's grip off.

 

“What did I say?” Baz grumbles. “A dumpster fire.”

 

Simon sighs, mussing his black hair. “It's not my fault my magic doesn't work right.”

 

Baz shrugs, and for a moment it's like Simon's there again. “You said you'd try if I couldn't do it. Better for you to cast something wrong than for me to blow us up.”

 

Simon hesitates. “Uh, okay. Then-- what should I do? Do you know a spell for this?”

 

Baz thinks about this for a moment, and he sits on the edge of his bed. I'm tempted to say, _Simon, he'll kill you if you touch his things,_ but it's still not Simon.

 

“I didn't even think this was possible,” Baz sighs, playing with the crease in Simon's trousers. “How am I supposed to know the counterspell?”

 

Simon rolls his grey eyes. “Well, let's brainstorm.”

 

Baz snorts. “As if you have a brain.”

 

Simon crosses his arms indignantly. “You're using my brain right now!”

 

Baz looks thrown off, and he chews at his bottom lip. “I mean, logically, sure, but I have all of my memories, not yours. Does that mean we actually switched brains, or--”

 

“Brainstorming,” I remind him, as fascinating as the thought is.

 

He nods. “Right.” He reaches for his wand in his shirt sleeve, then remembers it's not there. “Merlin. Snow, can you write for me?”

 

“I'll do it,” I offer quickly. I doubt that, even with Baz's magic, Simon will know what to do with a **See what I mean.** I cast and ready my hand, ring glowing.

 

“Well,” Baz sighs, “perhaps something like ‘the tables have turned’. Something meant to change a situation.”

 

Nodding, I write it down.

 

“Or… 'the hunter becomes the hunted’. That's from a movie, isn't it?”

 

“A bunch of them,” Simon agrees.

 

I add it.

 

Baz purses his lips. “Ah… ‘fair is foul and foul is fair’.”

 

“Shakespeare could be powerful,” I remark as I write it. (Yet again, the contrast is a lot to wrap my head around. Simon's voice quoting Macbeth is quite a shock.)

 

“If we're going for Shakespeare,” he hums, “‘to thine own self be true’?”

 

I nod, adding the line.

 

“Or 'that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’”

 

Simon snickers. “You're hardly a rose, Baz. If anything, you're the thorn.”

 

Baz shoots him an icy glare. “I'm about to be a Venus flytrap if you don't--”

 

“Shut my trap?” Simon grins mischievously. (If Shakespeare in Simon's voice gives me whiplash, Baz's voice making dad jokes is on another level entirely.)

 

Baz starts to stand, but I give Simon a pointed look, and he puts up his hands in surrender.

 

Sighing, Baz shakes his head. “I'll try to think of more, but that's a pretty substantial list.” He looks at Simon like he wants nothing more than to throw him out the window. “Could you try those and see if they do anything?”

 

Simon hesitates. “Uh-- me?” He looks to me pleadingly. “Penny's better with magic.”

 

“She's not involved in this,” Baz growls. “Besides, as much as I don't trust _you,_ I _do_ trust my magic.”

 

Simon swallows. “Right. Okay.” He glances around. “Where's your wand?”

 

“It's in your left sleeve,” Baz gestures.

 

Simon pulls it out, holding it gingerly like he's scared it'll hurt him. He fumbles his grip on it a bit, and I remember that Simon is left handed.

 

“You don't have to hold it how Baz would,” I suggest. “Use your dominant hand.”

 

He passes it to his other hand, biting his lip. “Right…”

 

I motion to the list. “Go ahead.”

 

He shuffles closer to read. He's the only one not sitting.

 

“Um… **the tables have turned.** ”

 

Baz squeaks in an undignified way, having been thrown to the floor. I wince.

 

“I suppose that one is meant for fighting,” I mutter. “It probably thought Baz was your… opponent…”

 

Baz picks himself up, looking shaken. “How in the name of magic did that not set off the anathema?”

 

Simon shrugs. “Well, technically I was hurting myself. Once we're back to normal, it'll be my body that bruises. If it bruises.”

 

Baz grits his teeth. “Well, anathema or not, don't do it again.”

 

“Sorry,” Simon offers.

 

He runs through the other spells, but none do the trick. By the end, Baz is growing roses is his hair.

 

“Maybe we should just take a break,” Baz admits, reaching up to pick one. He holds it out to Simon teasingly.

 

“Take a break?” Simon asks.

 

“We've already missed breakfast, and the first class of the day is nearly over. We might as well go to class and regroup at the end of the day. Maybe we'll think of something by then.”

 

I nod. “Sounds like a good idea.”

 

Simon's face is incredulous. “A good idea? You want me to go to class like this? What would I even tell my teachers?”

 

Baz smirks. “We share the majority of our classes. As long as we keep quiet and don't make a fuss, they might not even notice. And we can just tell the teachers we don't have together.”

 

Simon grins. “Does that mean you'll take my PoliSci exam for me?”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

We make our way to second block, and the two of them try to look inconspicuous.

 

They're terrible at it.

 

Simon is still clearly Simon. He bounces his leg under the table, chewing on his lip and playing with his hair. Every few minutes, his eyes wander away from the teacher. He keeps doodling little things in the corner of his notes. If he could keep even remotely still, he could maybe sell it. As he is, he's making it look like Baz drank a whole pot of coffee before coming to class.

 

On the other hand, Baz has that blank expression he likes, and it's even more chilling on Simon. It's like someone finally gave the kid an Adderall prescription, but actually it's not like that at all, because he's not just focused, he's unnervingly still. More like he's asleep and drew eyes on. He hardly moves a muscle.

 

I expected this from Simon, but I sort of thought Baz would be more of a thespian. It's almost amusing how awful at acting they are.

 

Unfortunately, I don't get to watch the ending to this comedy, because I don't have a class with either of them my last block.

 

When classes end, I start to head for Mummers House again. On the way there, I see Simon and Baz walking together, shoulders stiff and arms at their sides. They keep glancing at each other and looking away again.

 

I raise an eyebrow. What happened during PoliSci?

 

Keeping my distance, I watch carefully. Slowly, Simon draws closer, his arm brushing Baz's every now and then. Baz doesn't stop him.

 

They share a look that could mean anything and disappear into the dorm.

 

I pause for a few seconds before following, pushing open the doors as quietly as possible before creeping up the stairs.

 

When I reach the top of the staircase, I wait, listening.

 

“Um,” Baz's voice says, muffled by the bedroom door. “I didn't think…”

 

Whatever he was going to say stops, and I stiffen, holding my breath. But the door doesn't open, and neither of them calls out to me.

 

Slowly, I step closer, pressing my ear to the door. I can't hear any talking.

 

I take a deep breath and pull open the door as quietly as I can.

 

They're kissing, hands gripping each others’ hair and clothes. Simon is leaning down a little to compensate for the height difference.

 

I'd say I'm shocked, but that's a lie. I've seen the way Baz stares, and I've always suspected Simon's stalking wasn't exactly heterosexual. If anything, I'm surprised they finally figured it all out.

 

I clear my throat, and they fly apart, blushing.

 

“Uh!” Simon blusters. “We-- it's--”

 

“It's not what it looks like?” I ask, grinning.

 

He nods, eyes wide.

 

“Just… two blokes being blokes?”

 

He can't really blush much in Baz's body, but Merlin does he try.

 

“Oh, sod off, Bunce,” Baz sighs, flushing darkly.

 

My smile grows wider. “Well, clearly it's of no importance then. Just two pals.” They can't look me in the eyes. “And since it's not important, I suppose we should move on to the fact that I've found a spell.”

 

Immediately, the mood shifts, and Simon looks ready to jump up and down like a little girl.

 

“Really?” He asks, eyes shining.

 

I nod. “It was quite obvious, actually.”

 

He shakes his head. “Well, try it, then. It's worth a shot!”

 

Baz crosses his arms, looking to me expectantly.

 

“Do you want Simon to cast it?” I ask.

 

“At this point,” Baz sighs, “I don't think it matters.”

 

I raise my hand, pointing my ring at the two of them.

“ **Freaky Friday.** ”

 

Their bodies go stiff for a moment, eyes wide. I watch carefully, waiting for some sign.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Simon says suddenly, and I know it worked because Baz would never swear like a normal.

 

Baz shudders and dusts off his blazer. “Thank magic.”

 

Simon rounds on me, eyebrows drawn. “Freaky Friday? Really? Why didn't I think of that?”

 

“Should I know what that is?” Baz asks, fixing his hair.

 

“It's a film,” I smile. “Kind of the epitome of body swaps.”

 

He huff, looking disinterested. “Right, well, that's sorted.” Smirking, he looks to Simon. “About time, too. Now I can snog you properly.”

 

Simon squeaks, blushing again, and glances between me and Baz, looking caught off guard.

 

Baz laughs-- a real, genuine laugh-- and pulls Simon into another kiss.

 

It's funny how something like being another person for a day got them to communicate enough to get over their mental roadblocks. Seeing each other in a new light must have been enough.

 

(And if I remembered the movie all along and was holding off on using it to see where all of this would lead, no one needs to be the wiser.)


End file.
